by Layla Hagen
I curl up in my bed with the hot chocolate, willing a brilliant idea to strike, so I’ll cheer him up. He and Amy finished a Facebook live video chat one hour ago with fans, and it had gone about as craptastic as the rest.
My phone rings at eleven o’clock on the dot.
“You know, I was admiring your punctuality in the beginning, but now it’s a little scary,” I say.
“In some parts of the world, it’s considered rude not to be punctual.”
“I’ll make sure to avoid those parts, then. Are you in your room?”
“Yeah. Just came up.”
“But your event finished an hour ago.”
“Yeah, we had an emergency meeting with our managers and publicists.”
I stop in the act of spooning whipped cream into my mouth, my stomach tightening.
“Oh?”
“The studio is pulling the plug on the rest of the live events and interviews. They only bring bad publicity.”
“Oh, Alex. I’m so sorry.”
“Well, the good part is my schedule will clear up a bit. I was thinking about hopping on the jet and coming to see you.”
My insides warm, and it has nothing to do with the sip of hot chocolate I just took. But something doesn’t add up.
“Wait, what? I know your schedule. It doesn’t only consist of live events.”
“No, but I’ll ask Preston to move them around. I’d love to see you. I miss you like crazy. When I go to bed, when I wake up.”
My insides warm even more, and I’m so tempted to tell him to stamp all over his schedule just to spend time with me.
“But you’re flying to LA next, as far as I remember. You’re attending some important shows there. You can’t just hop on a plane and—I KNOW—gaaaaah!”
I finally realize what I can do to cheer him up. Unfortunately, I had a whole-body realization—I straightened with a start, jolting my cup. Half its contents landed on my sheet, the other half on my pillow.
“Summer?”
“I messed up my bed, but never mind. I had an idea. I could fly out to LA.”
“It’d be easier if I came to you, though. For you, I mean. In LA we’d have to be more careful. There are paps at every corner.”
I accidentally sat on the drenched part of the bed and immediately leap to my feet. “We’ll manage. It was getting dull around here without any James Bond-ish missions.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah. Olivia won’t be happy that I’m taking off again, but I have so much accrued time that she’ll have no choice.”
“I’ll talk to Preston, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I’ll e-mail Olivia right away, tell her I want time off starting on Wednesday. I could stay in LA until Sunday.”
“I’d love it if you could stay with me for the entire tour, but I know that’d be pushing it with the paps, not to mention your job. Summer? This means the world to me.”
My insides flutter for the rest of our conversation, and even while I change the bedsheets afterward. I’m going to see him in two days. That’s so much better than two weeks.
I’m so proud of the way I just up and offered to go see him. The old Summer would have been afraid he’d think I’m suffocating or clingy, but Alex appreciates it. He appreciates me. I don’t know that there is a better feeling in the world. LA, here I come!
***
I downplayed Olivia’s possible reaction when speaking to Alex, because I didn’t want him to worry. But even though I have more accrued time off than anyone else, Olivia scowls and shakes her head when she corners me.
“You want to take time off, again?”
We’re on the ground floor of the gallery, in the back, packing up the Monet collection. It’s going back to Paris today. I’m in the supplies corner, searching for Bubble Wrap.
“It’s just three days, for personal reasons.”
“First volunteering, now personal reasons.”
“It’s unavoidable, plus, I don’t have any groups scheduled this week.” Even though it’s mid-August, and the constant stream of tourists means we have a lot of tours scheduled, Diana and Jacob agreed to jump in for me.
“I get the sense you’re not prioritizing your job anymore.”
I stop in the act of searching for Bubble Wrap. I’m acutely aware of Diana and Jacob watching us.
“It’s my right to take time off,” I say calmly. “Since you opened this gallery, I took less time off than anyone else, including you.”
Maybe that’s the problem in the first place. Olivia is so used to me being here, that she takes the hours I put in for granted.
Olivia plays with the key chain around her neck, standing straight as a rod. “I appreciate all your effort, but this feels so out of the blue.”
“I know it’s short notice, and I’m sorry about it.”
“I hope you’ll be more considerate from now on. I see a bright future for you here at the gallery, and I’d hate for you to jeopardize that.”
I feel like a child being scolded in front of the entire classroom, and I won’t have it. Especially when I’m the main reason the gallery has a future.
“Don’t forget I brought in fifteen of the twenty collections this year. I’m certain my partners would follow me to whatever gallery has a bright future for me.”
My voice is as calm as I can muster, but Olivia’s eyes become glacial. She glances sideways at the rest of the team. Oh, now she cares that we aren’t alone.
“I’ll see you next Monday,” Olivia says before swirling on her heels and heading out. My colleagues give me a thumbs-up.
“You should run this place,” Diana says.
Jacob pipes in, “Or, if you decide to set up your own shop, I’ll apply for a job, just so you know.”
I smile. Maybe it is time to think about opening my own gallery again. I was young, dreamy, and foolish when I tried the first time. Now I have more experience. That I failed once doesn’t mean I’ll fail again.
Diana rubs her palms. “So, dish out. Why do you need time off? It must be pretty big.”
“It’s a secret,” I tease, already counting down the hours until I’ll see Alex.
***
The flight to LA seems endless, even though I have my hands full going through Preston’s security list. It’s exhaustive... and exhausting. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of food surrounding me. Alex offered to send me his private jet, but it felt excessive, so I declined.
I only ordered a glass of wine. Now I regret the wine, because it isn’t helping my concentration.
1. We will check you in under a different name. In case the media gets wind of the relationship, you’ll be safe from the paps. You need a room for yourself because Alex will be conducting two interviews from his room.
2. You will be staying on the same floor as Alex.
3. You are not to be seen together ANYWHERE. That means:
—you will not ride the elevator together
—you will not go to the hotel pool, spa, or any other amenities together
—you will not walk out of the hotel together
There are thirty-five “You will not” items on the list, and even as I work on memorizing them, I fear we’ll slip at some point. I tuck the list in my purse as the plane descends, and tell myself I shouldn’t fret so much. Alex has plenty of experience. I’ll trust him to guide me.
A driver waits for me at LAX, with a shield displaying my fake name, Tessa Cavanaugh.
I wish Preston had left the choice of fake name to me. I would have come up with something much cooler.
The driver rolls my enormous suitcase for me to the car, a black SUV with tinted windows. Between the fake name and the windows, this feels more like a mafia club than a James Bond mission.
When I climb in the car, I discover a takeout box in the back seat.
“Sir, there’s a takeout box back here.”
“I completely forgot. It’s for you, Ms. Cavanaugh.”
I catch myself j
ust in time. I almost asked him whom he meant. I’d better get used to answering to Cavanaugh, and get used to it fast.
The takeout box contains a salmon and salad wrap. I barely take it out when I realize there’s a note too.
“Sorry it was too risky to wait for you at the airport. I’ll make it up to you tonight. I know you don’t like to eat on planes, so here’s a snack to get you by until dinner.”
I stare at the note open-mouthed. My heart hammers madly as I inhale the wrap. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve tasted. Then again, I have a hunch everything right now will taste delicious. Oh, I’m so happy I flew out here.
I’ve been to LA many times, visiting my Connor cousins. I plan to see them at least once while I’m here. Given Alex’s packed schedule, I’ll have plenty of time on my own.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Summer
My jaw goes slack when the car pulls in front of the hotel. Paparazzi are camping everywhere, their eyes trained on the entrance, their cameras poised.
“Is there a service entrance?” I ask the driver.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take you there right away.”
Five minutes later and countless surprised glances from the personnel, I step into the lobby, where Preston is waiting for me.
“Hi, Preston!” I greet, inflecting a little extra cheer in my voice, because he looks as if he’s in dire need of it. Lines so deep mar his forehead, they’ll become permanent soon.
He nods curtly, gesturing me to the reception. I look around as we wait in the short line to the check-in. I’ve been here numerous times with my cousin Valentina, sitting at the coffee tables spread past the lobby area.
They serve excellent pastries. The two of us had often spied the lobby while filling our bellies, in case any celebrity was staying here. Oh, the irony.
“How is—” I begin, but Preston shakes his head.
When our turn comes, I present myself as Tessa Cavanaugh. The name rolls strangely off my tongue.
“We’ll need an ID, please.”
I freeze. Of course, they need an ID. What’s Preston thinking, asking me to give a fake name? Unless he has a fake ID ready, but that seems far-fetched.
“That won’t be necessary,” Preston says. “She’s on my team.”
To my astonishment, the receptionist merely nods, sliding me a keycard.
“Enjoy your stay, Ms. Cavanaugh.”
“Are they used to this?” I mouth to Preston as we march to the elevator.
“Celebrities give fake names all the time. The paps still find out, as you saw in front of the hotel.”
There are four elevators, but none are on the ground floor, so we wait, Preston tapping his foot, me torn between telling him to stop and hurrying to buy him a pastry. He looks like he needs it. Hell, I need it. The hoard of paps in front is unnerving.
When one of the elevators finally dings and the doors open, I patiently wait for the half a dozen guests to step out before heading in. Then several things happen at the same time.
As I step in, someone calls my name. My real name. I pivot on my heels and come face-to-face with Tara Delaware. Oh crap. Guess who won’t be fooled by Tessa Cavanaugh?
Preston tries to usher me inside, and she makes to grab my arm. I yank it away, but she still catches the sleeve of my T-shirt between her fingers. The fabric tears from my shoulder as I leap further back.
“You’re not allowed in here!” Preston booms.
“Just some gossip. That’s all I’m looking for. And right now, the fact that Summer Bennett is here smells like a story, especially if I work in their trip to Tahoe in the article.” She holds up the camera, and Preston makes to step in front of me, shielding me, but I wiggle out, going straight for the pap.
“This is private property, and I am not a public persona. The hotel has a no-pictures policy too. You’re breaking the law by being in the hotel, and if you take that picture, you’ll be breaking another law. My chances of winning a lawsuit against you are 100 percent.” I point to the torn sleeve. “This counts as harassment in any court. I don’t think you can even afford legal fees, much less damages.”
Tara blinks, eyes wide, lowering her camera.
“I thought so,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’ll be biding my time, you know. At some point, I will snatch a picture of you outside.”
I punch the button to close the doors, and Preston presses the one that will take us to the seventh floor.
“Summer, are you okay?” he asks gently. I realize I’m shaking, picking at my torn sleeve.
“Fine! I’m fine. I can’t believe that idiot.”
“That was a very good answer. It wasn’t even on the list.”
I stop picking at the sleeve. It’s no use anyway, I’ll have to toss the shirt away.
“No, but a few years ago the press was practically stalking everyone named Bennett. They always bank on people not knowing their rights or being afraid to exercise them. Is Alex in his room?”
“Yes. He’s waiting for you.”
I take a deep breath, gathering my wits about me.
***
Alex
I realize something is off the second Summer and Preston step inside the room. Preston looks even grimmer than in the past few days, and that’s saying something, since he’s been sulking like he’s trying to win an Oscar for it.
Summer walks right into my arms. I melt against her sweet body, then freeze when I see the torn sleeve.
“What happened?” I inquire.
“A pap got in the hotel,” Preston answers. “Tried to touch Summer’s arm as she was stepping back. But Summer knows her stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Basically told her I’d sue the crap out of her, because she’s on a private property and I’m not a public persona,” she explains.
“I’m going down to the reception to file a complaint anyway. Paps aren’t supposed to come inside. Why the hell do they have security for? We have another problem. The pap was Tara Delaware. She knows who Summer is. She won’t give up.”
I swear, pressing Summer closer to me. “Go and talk to her right now. Promise her an exclusive story.”
Preston raises his eyebrows. “What exclusive story?”
“Doesn’t matter. Promise her that we’ll give her something big as soon as we have it.”
He glares. “Exclusive stories are important Alex, you can’t just give them away. We don’t even know from which publication she is. Could be some fifth-hand—”
“I don’t care. I want this issue buried before it escalates.”
What I’d like to do is make sure Tara Delaware never gets her hand on another story, exclusive or not. But I get what they say about losing a battle to win the war.
“Fine, I’ll go find her,” Preston says.
The second Preston’s out the door, I lower my mouth to Summer’s. I kiss her until I feel the tension unwind from her muscles, and then I kiss her some more, because I can’t bring myself to stop. It’s insane how much I’ve missed her.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” I confess when I pause for a breath. “But this was a crazy idea. We’ll get some of my security guys around you when you go out.”
“I don’t want that. It’s just going to attract attention. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. Still want to keep you in a glass globe or locked up here with me.”
“Hmm, you’d have to entertain me all the time, though. Are you up for the challenge?”
“Oh, baby, I am.”
“I wonder how you could do that.” She smiles, and the world seems to fade around us. Nothing else matters right now: the upcoming box office bomb and the subsequent damage it would do to my career, the paps downstairs. Nothing matters when she smiles like that. I want to marry this woman. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, tilting her head to study me.
“One week apart
and you already can’t read me anymore?”
She pinches my forearm. “Tell me.”
I don’t believe in voicing all my thoughts, especially when I can barely sort through them myself. But there is no denying Summer, so I press my thumbs at the corners of her mouth. “Because I’d do anything for this smile. For you.”
A grin spreads across her face. Next thing I know, she jumps me, literally. She laces her arms around my neck and wraps her legs around my middle. I meet her halfway, securing my hands under her ass.
I carry her across the suite, bringing her from the living room to the bedroom. Laying her on the king-sized bed, I run my hands over her arms. My gut twists when I reach the bare skin of her shoulders through the ripped shirt. I kiss that patch of skin, then move back up to her face.
“I’m sorry about this, Summer. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re willing to put up with all this craziness. Why do you?”
I swallow the next words, kissing her instead, tasting her sweet and sinful mouth. I was about to confess how much I fear she’ll wake up one day and decide this is all not worth it.
She takes my face in her hands, looking straight at me when I tear my lips from hers.
“Because you remember I don’t eat on planes and send me a snack. Because you buy me flowers for no reason at all, and hold me tight when I’m afraid of deep water.” Her voice is raw with emotion as she kisses down my jaw. I push the hem of her shirt upward, lowering myself until I’m level with her belly. I kiss every inch of skin I uncover. I want to uncover all of her. She gazes down at me with so much emotion and desire that I lose my trail of thoughts for a moment. Rising back up, I claim her mouth, kissing her until she fists my shirt, yanking it over my head. We’ve never undressed so fast.
As soon as I do away with her bra, I take one nipple into my mouth, turning it into a pebble with my tongue. I flick my tongue until she digs her heels into the mattress, crying out for me.
